Memory of My First Sister
by Earl Cardinal
Summary: In response to the 9th anniversary of The World God Only Knows franchise (April 9, 2014), a small compilation of poems and haikus draw a blurry picture of a devil long gone, but fresh in memory. Interpreted as another ending to Chapter 266 of the TWGOK manga.


**This is posted on the 6th anniversary of The World God Only Knows.**

**I hate this whole concept, but I can't stand writing a commemorative in prose.**

**But I had to do something, like an obligation.**

**Hate on it as you will, I've exhausted my imagination.**

* * *

The monitors light up but stay silent,

the look of the gamer looks eerily violent.

The dull reflection of his face on the screen flickers and flashes

and behind him are games and games, stacks and stashes.

All awaiting him to come for them,

who considers them all a unique gem.

The headphones on him echo with muffled giggles and laughs,

as the boy treads rapidly across the right paths.

Yet with all this happiness, he doesn't smile.

He's done this for hours, without a single save file.

His head resonates with trouble,

almost imploding, like that of a bubble.

Whirling on this virtual paradise, even though he's tired.

If he gives up now, he's fired.

Dead, gone, without a head.

But he plays his games instead.

He can't her face out of his mind.

She was one of his kind.

But what does that mean?

It all sounds like a dream.

* * *

Her brilliant smile glares,

With eyes open wide in accusatory stares.

Her laugh jabs his heart,

Pain tearing through him with a start.

In the lightened darkness he fumbles,

Through his memory which is in jumbles.

The innocent naïveté she displayed.

She was the only one he didn't want betrayed.

Yet he was the one force her hand.

Her childish dreams of joining the band.

Crushed and shattered,

Torn and tattered.

A reminder of his one and biggest mistake.

That the reality surrounding him was all fake.

To forget the one thing he swore to uphold,

All his passion had gone deathly cold.

Yet what passion did was he speaking of?

Where was she, perhaps in the heavens above?

* * *

Can she forgive him, who has brought her tears?

Can he forgive her, who has abandoned him and left him with his fears?

"I regret my choice."

The remorse is clearly heard in the voice.

A carefully chosen word.

Quiet apologies that will never be heard.

Lies and misunderstandings covering each other,

Layers upon layers of them, starting with him as a "brother."

But as she began to become familiar in his life,

Her strife was his loss, her loss was his strife.

Death was the insurance for his submission

Yet by now, did he really want for his and her resignation?

But her figure illuminates his every gaze,

But he must be going through a teenage phase

(After all, who can believe he had a sister?

And even if he did, how could he have missed her?)

Question like cloud his mind,

But who exactly is he trying to find?

A soft and cheerful girl,

Whom he had a quarrel.

And everyday forcing her horrendous nutrition.

. . .No one he knew fit that description.

He was alone, and as he had been, and will be.

What do those days he had apparently spent in thought?

Against an ancient evil he had fought.

Those lost lambs of which he had gathered a united herd,

All of a sudden left, without a trace or a word.

Why was he thinking of this?

Why weren't these games giving him bliss?

His face clenches in a cold sweat.

Did he really have anything to forget?

* * *

_Ka-_

Believing a lie

Lies cannot hold

Truth breaks free

_Kami-_

Doesn't it hurt?

The truth isn't nice

But no reaction

_ Kami-sa-_

Sitting silently

Thinking of time forgotten

How did he lose it

_"Kami-sama!"_

Rubbing his eyes, Keima abruptly awoke from sleep.

. . . .Did someone call him?

Shaking his head, he passed it off as listening to far too much galge dialogue.

Was it possible he had played too much? Never. But maybe he should lover the volume. Especially during those certain H scenes. . . .

Nevertheless, the voice awakened some sort of nostalgia in him.

What was that whole deal with his dream? It seemed far more menacing than most of his fantasies, or lack thereof.

Shoving aside the covers, he grabbed his PFP that had been charging.

Another day.

The familiar sound of cooking from his mother for breakfast prompted him to hurry his morning ritual. She always got upset when he wasn't at the table by the time she was finished.

As he sat down, he is unexpectedly distracted by the chair that was usually empty in front of him. To his left sat Mari, so. . .

Who sat in front of him?

No one, right?

Or. . .

A girl with a childish demeanor, an amateur in her own profession, overall a huge inconvenience, and the "last boss."

His only imouto, his only true sister.

. . .He was shocked to find tears in his eyes.

Hiding his face from his mother, he desperately searched for the answer in his memories.

Wiping away the streaks on his face, his eyes pour with a fresh wave.

Who was this _"Elsi?"_


End file.
